


In Chains and On Fire

by septicwheelbarrow



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Handcuffs, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septicwheelbarrow/pseuds/septicwheelbarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know I can break them easily," Erik says, flexing his wrists against the handcuffs strapping him down flat on the bed. His voice nearly shakes with lust.</p><p>Charles hums from where he's standing beside the bed, adjusting his sleeves. "I know." <i>But you will not.</i></p><p>(tl;dr: Sex in chains. Not <i>literally</i> on fire.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Chains and On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Three thousand words of sex. Yay.

"You know I can break them easily," Erik says, flexing his wrists against the handcuffs strapping him down flat, his back to the bed. His voice nearly shakes with lust.

Charles hums from where he's standing beside the bed, adjusting his sleeves. His fingers graze the swivel-bars of his cufflinks, almost a caress, too slow to be anything but deliberate. The silver is a pinprick of cold against his fingertip. "I know." _But you will not_.

Erik grins, teeth bared in a challenge, as he lies completely naked on the bed. His wrists and ankles are chained. His cock is half-hard. Charles spares him not even a glance. Out of the corner of his eye, Charles sees Erik tossing. He _feels_ , keenly, a sudden spike of frustration. The chains rattle as Erik growls - a gratifying noise which Charles savors before everything falls near silent. If Charles pays attention, he can hear the sound of Erik's breathing.

Moonlight flickers through the blinds, casting shadows on Erik's bare skin. Charles follows with his gaze as a drop of sweat makes its way down Erik's torso, curling around a nipple, disappearing into the coarse hairs around his groin.

Slowly, Charles undoes his cuffs. His jacket is long gone, draped across the velvet armchair, a mantle of black against deep wine red. Hooking a finger under the knot of his tie, Charles tugs, feeling the slither of cloth under his collar - slow, slow. It's expensive, the tie, and the whisper of satin against his fingers as the cloth tumbles to the carpet is exquisite.

Charles feels, rather than see, the ache of Erik's neck as he twists for a better view. As he thumbs the topmost button of his shirt, the crescendo of Erik's _want-yes-now_ slams into him like thunder. He hears himself make a sharp intake of breath.

A moment's pause regains his footing. Charles shakes his head minutely, forming a decision, and then saunters over to the armchair, further from Erik's reach, relishing once again the wash of Erik's frustration. _Come on, Charles._

Offering no assurances, Charles sits, prim and proper. The bite of his collar - still buttoned - against his neck is almost unbearable, and Charles adjusts it with much more restlessness than he likes. Erik's not the only one waiting.

Charles closes his eyes, letting himself drown in Erik's barely restrained lust. It roils over him like a wave, tugging at him with impatience. Beneath it, a hint of amusement. This is their language, this push and pull. This is their game, and Charles plans to enjoy every single second.

"You know your safeword," Charles murmurs, and then - only thendoes he look Erik in the eyes.

The jolt of arousal shocks a gasp out of both of them. Erik's eyes are _blue_ , electrifying, and he feels utterly naked, turned inside out, even as he is the one fully dressed. Erik _sees_ him, pierces Charles to his very core. Charles does not need to look into Erik's mind to know that Erik feels the same way.

He drags his tongue across his bottom lip. Erik pursues the movement with an overwhelming intensity. In his mind, the gesture is intensified, a snapshot of motion that Erik's brain replays again and again, every detail captured and turned over. The flash of pink tongue, the thin sheen of saliva. Charles gulps, throat bobbing.

 _Come on, Charles_ , Erik urges, sounding playful and not a little impatient. His body arches slightly off the bed.

In response, Charles undoes his topmost button. He basks in Erik's momentary triumph as his hands trail down his chest, a firm pressure as he undoes his buttons one by one. His fingers take a detour to swirl around a nipple through the cloth. Throughout it all, Erik's eyes lock onto his, greedy and unyielding, his mind a constant demand for _more_.

"Do you like seeing me like this?" Charles says, palming his cock through his trousers.

"I could ask you the same question," Erik answers, much too calm for the lust-filled chaos that makes up his mind.

"I rather think you do," Charles says, as he pops open his trouser button. His fingers press against the zipper, knowing that Erik can feel the warming of the metal as he tugs it down.

Erik inhales sharply. Charles isn't wearing any underwear.

"Surprised?" Charles smirks.

"Pleasantly." The timbre of Erik's voice is dark and sleek, rolling off his tongue. Charles has to suppress a shiver, and from Erik's widening grin, he knows precisely the effect _that voice_ has on Charles.

Charles takes a lungful of air, willing the sudden sweep of his arousal to settle. As he exhales, he raises a hand and brushes his knuckles to his lips, all too aware of Erik's piercing gaze. Charles has a show to put on.

And he will deliver.

He begins by licking his thumb, tasting salt on his skin. He swipes his tongue over his fingers, one by one, licking from the base to the tip and then back again, lathering his fingers with spit. Then he starts sucking, and the wet noises he makes sounds obscene even to his own ears. When he swallows past his middle finger's first knuckle, Erik's eyes darken. His cock twitches.

Charles inhales a shaky breath and pushes two fingers into his mouth, takes them whole. He sucks until his cheeks hollow. _A preview_ , he says, and Erik moans. He watches Charles, rapt, breath growing more and more laborious with every teasing twist of tongue.

That's enough, he thinks. Charles takes his hand, dripping with saliva, and curls his fingers around his cock, one by one, deliberate. But not before he reaches at Erik with his mind, sharing a feather's touch of what he feels over their mental connection.

Erik jolts in bed, and shuts his eyes.

 _"_ Erik," Charles calls, a reprimand. Keep your eyes open, he wants to say. But, actually -

_Don't open your eyes._

Erik groans, heavy and long.

Charles teases a finger up his cock, knows that Erik feels only the barest of impressions from the press of Charles' mind. Erik groans again, writhing against his chains. _More, dammit, more,_ his mind screams.

"Tell me," Charles says, whip-sharp. He twists his fist against the cockhead, rough, near-violent, and Erik snarls. "What do you see, when you close your eyes? What do you dream about?"

" _Fuck,_ " Erik gasps, hips jerking up into empty air.

"What do you see?" Charles repeats, hand gripping tight, pumping up and down and almost painful. He alternates between a rough grip and a delicate flutter of fingers, tracing the veins of his cock up and down. Erik's fully erect, now, his cock leaking, white pearly fluid gathering at the tip. Charles longs to take it into his mouth, longs to chase the blooming flush of Erik's skin with his tongue, and Erik must have heard that, because he groans and there's a blast of lust and outright _need_ , _fuck,_ _I need you now_ from him.

It's strange, that need, rough and jagged at the edges, because Erik's so unused to need, and Charles understands what a privilege this is, revels in the novelty and throws himself into it completely. He responds with need of his own, staggering in its intensity, and Erik's eyes snap open before he catches himself and closes them again.

 _It's alright,_ Charles says, giving a mental caress, and Erik shudders.

With his free hand Charles plays with his nipple, watching as Erik helplessly follows the motion, even though no hands touch him, guided only by the link of Charles' mind to his.

Charles considers telling Erik to stay still, but decides against it. Instead, he alters the rhythm of his pumps, breaks the pattern of Erik's thrusts, uses both hands to fondle his balls - and Erik's composure is completely destroyed, Erik biting out curses as his thrusts turn confused, wild, erratic --

Charles stops entirely, stifling his own ragged cry. "What do you _see?_ "

" _You_ ," Erik groans, almost a sob, thrashing, "you, you bastard, touch me, come on, touch me-"

"Good boy," Charles murmurs, and Erik yanks at the cuffs. The chains rattle. This time it's a warning, a reminder that despite being tied up and writhing breathless he will not stand to be _condescended to_ -

 _I know,_ Charles says. _Of course I know_. He resumes the movement of his hands, broadcasting his thrill at the way Erik's breath catches when his thumb brushes against the slit. He presses, uses the backs of his nails the way Erik likes it, drags them against skin and feeling Erik tense, burning heat coiling in his stomach and groin. Erik's hands tighten into fists, relax, tighten again, muscles rippling as his pants grow more and more chaotic, interrupted by short sharp noises and gasps, as if Erik can't stop the sounds spilling from his lips.

And then Charles shares his mind fully: joy, awe, pure admiration of Erik's control, when even in desperation, he does not command the chains to break. _Magnificent_ , Charles thinks, the word overflowing with pleasure and adoration and heat, and something else, raw and almost painful in its clarity, _God you're so beautiful --_

Erik comes with a shout. Charles grips the base of his cock almost to bruising, eyes slammed shut and teeth digging into his lips. He stays like that until the tide of orgasm passes, too short and too long at once, until the burning heat settles to a warmth, slow, dripping, hovering just outside the edge of unbearable.

Moments later, "You can open your eyes now," Charles says, hoarse. Tiny pinpricks of sweat dot his nape.

Erik does, eyelids lifting slowly. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown and drenched with lust that Charles trembles when the full force of his gaze falls upon him once more. When he sees Charles, Erik's eyes widen as he says, "You still haven't-"

Charles quirks his lips. "Not yet, love. I still have plans," he murmurs, low. _Did you think I was done with you?_ he says, and Erik _shivers_.

Minutes later, Charles stands and removes his trousers. His motions are relaxed, almost lazy, and he would seem disinterested if not for the swirl of heat his mind communicates. Lust from Erik's mind trickles steadily into his, constant but no longer as urgent, as he approaches the bed. It's tinged with slight confusion when Charles bends to retrieve his fallen tie.

The confusion turns into anticipation, with a little amused apprehensiveness that Charles is quick to reassure – a short _don't worry, I'll take care of you_ that Erik does not protest - when Charles slips the tie around Erik's cock and forms a knot. Tight enough to restrain, but the expensive satin is soft enough not to chafe.

Flashing a quick smile, Charles bends and licks Erik's flaccid groin.

Erik yells.

 _There now, love_ , Charles says, his mind a soothing whisper. He chases the droplets of white on Erik's stomach, his balls, laps it all up like he's always intended to. He tongues at the boundary of cloth, slipping the tip of his tongue between skin and satin, delighting in the way Erik bucks and heaves and growls.

 _I can't–_ Erik begins, but he cuts the thought short. _I-_

Erik's mind is a whirlwind of overwhelmed arousal, a muddled symphony of desire and overstimulation and an almost-there _please_ , because Erik never begs and Charles will never make him. Charles lets up as soon as his come is licked clean. He grabs the jar of lube from the bedside table. Allows a moment for Erik to gain his breath back before he settles on the bed, beside Erik, spreading his legs. Erik's eyes are wide, tracking Charles' movements as if hypnotized.

Charles taps Erik on one wrist. The cuff unlocks. Taking Erik's free hand, Charles dips their intertwined fingers into the jar of lube and guides Erik's hand between his legs.

With a wave of eager arousal, Erik pushes one finger into Charles – one knuckle, then two. He urges Charles' finger in with a soft murmur, _yes, liebling, you're so perfect_ , _so good_ , and together they watch the thrusts of their fingers into Charles' body. Erik adds one more, slow and dragging and absolutely perfect. Then Erik's fingers curl, and Charles quakes.

Charles feels hot all over, stretched where the fingers penetrate him, and it's almost too much, he's filled almost to bursting and _so, so good_ when Erik nudges at their mental connection and asks, pushes once more, _think you can take another?_

" _Yes,"_ Charles gasps, whether in response to the question or a particularly sharp thrust he doesn't know. "Yes," he nearly sobs.

 _Then,_ Erik starts, and he doesn't need to continue. Charles is already easing one more finger into himself, groaning as he slips the second knuckle inside.

 _Four,_ Erik mouths, lips hanging loose and expression looking dazed. "You," he breathes, and does not – cannot – continue. His cock, Charles notices with much pleasure, is erect once more.

"Love," Charles whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to Erik's lips. The new angle pushes the fingers deeper, if possible, and Charles groans into Erik's mouth. "I think that's enough."

"Yes," Erik hisses, impatient when he pulls their fingers out. He then grabs Charles' shirt, trying one-handed to wrench it off. "Get this thing off you," he says, rough and frenzied, voice thick.

Charles laughs, shrugs off his shirt and carelessly tosses it behind him.

"That's _much_ better," Erik says, appraising him, his gaze heavy and heated on Charles' whole body, feeling almost like a physical caress.

Perching himself upon Erik's lap, Charles regards the sliver of cloth he tied around Erik's cock. "Should I take this off you?" he murmurs, hand skimming its length.

Erik bucks, once, twice, growling a "yes" that Charles more or less ignores. "Come on, _liebling_ ," Erik tries again, words peppered with pants.

With a lubed hand Charles grips the head of Erik's cock, cups his balls with his other hand, and starts pumping. Erik practically keens. "Charles," he manages, " _Charles_."

"Erik," Charles whispers as he rubs their cocks together, the drag of skin against skin tantalizing. They rut, frantic, mattress bouncing and bed creaking as Erik strains against his bonds. Charles is aware of the obscene sounds they're making, slaps of skin against skin and _uh-uh-uh_ spilling past their lips, but he can't, he can't stop any of it.

Pleasure crests and crashes against them in waves, amplified by the mental bond echoing _yes yes yes_ across their minds. Before Charles loses himself completely, he manages to pull the tie off, freeing Erik's cock. The relief that barrels into him from Erik tears a loud wail past his lips, and Erik's really straining now, control over metal holding thin. Dimly, in a moment of lucidity between the overwhelming pleasure, Charles registers that the cast iron headboard is already twisting into strange shapes.

 _Mercy,_ Erik thinks. His mind is attempting to concentrate on the handcuffs, exerting as much control as he can to _not_ break them. _Mercy,_ Erik thinks, and Charles responds, _yes_.

Two taps on the wrist and Erik shatters his remaining cuffs. Relief, _blessed relief_ as Erik lets go of his control, right before he grabs Charles' shoulders and slams him down. He's completely wild, _animal_ , lost in the kind of mindless _lust_ that steals Charles' breath away, feral and beautiful as he lines his cock with Charles' ass and breaches his opening, one smooth sharp glide that Charles _feels_ all the way through.

Erik thrusts into Charles, pounds him mercilessly, their fingers tangling together and clutching so hard they look almost white. Erik's lips crash into his own, too messy for a proper kiss, tongues and teeth clashing. It must hurt, it should, but it's not, not when they're sharing wet gasps, desperate pants, swallowing moans and cries, _closer, here,_ fire _everywhere_ , their minds inseparable and toes curling knees weak and every nerve alight. The tension mounts higher and higher until it _snaps_ , and it seems too short and too forever and everything goes _white_ and Charles _screams_ \--

Erik collapses against him with a broken groan, pulling his cock out of Charles. His come drips down Charles' thigh, and the sensation is _filthy_ , perfect and sensual in a way that Charles savors. It's weird, how even so close that they can't separate their limbs their eyes still seek each other's. Like this, Erik is cracked open. He looks, he looks shattered, messy and delicious and languid, shattered and then put together in the best way possible, something like light bathing him through and through. _Serenity_ , Charles thinks, and feels the corner of Erik's lips rise.

It takes a while for them to come back to themselves. They lie, side by side, eyes locked and unable to let go, as they wait for their breath to settle.

Their hands are still linked. When he finds himself sufficiently coherent, Charles drags Erik's hand up to his cheek, kisses his knuckles and whispers, soft and loving, "Hey, you."

"Hey," Erik breathes, and his expression is open and vulnerable and full of wonder.

 _I love you_.

 _Yes,_ Charles says. _I love you_.

They sleep like that, skin against skin, sticky with come and sweat, limbs and fingers intertwined. In the morning, when they're both awake and staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of last night, Erik turns to Charles and nuzzles his neck. And then, mutters, in all seriousness, "Let's save the cuffs for special occasions."

"Hmm," Charles agrees noncommittally. His limbs are wonderfully sore. "Next time you're the one chaining me to the bed."

**Author's Note:**

> One day I woke and, in whimsy, wondered, what if I wrote porn. Which of course turns to, I wanna write porn. _I just wanna write poooorn_ , I wailed, I wept, I whimpered.
> 
> So I wrote. It'll be a short quickie, I whispered. But then it's 1000 words and they haven't even _touched_ , technically, and I wilted under the winsome weight of wordy porn.
> 
> So there it is. My first ever porn fic. I totally whacked my porn cherry dry (pun notwithstanding). Thank you so much for reading!


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